


Cry, Cry Baby

by roachpatrol



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, bloodswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-12
Updated: 2011-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:37:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roachpatrol/pseuds/roachpatrol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You switched our blood, Vriska," Tavros says, and stares at his hand almost admiringly. The smile on his face is utterly unrecognizable, and when she looks up there is nothing in her head but burning terror. He has so many teeth when he grins at her, and her own color is staining his lips, that's <i>her</i> color, it's <i>hers.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Cry, Cry Baby

**Author's Note:**

> _  
> Don't cry, baby  
>  If this makes you cry, girl I didn't mean it  
> Next time I should lie, the truth is inconvenient  
> I bet if you'd try, you could live without me  
> I really don't know why, you bother to cry about me_
> 
>  _Cry, cry baby, I guess that I'm a bad guy now  
>  Cry, cry baby, just like all the other ones  
> Cry, cry baby_
> 
>  _\--Cry Baby,_ Cee Lo Green

  
Consciousness comes slowly. She claws her way out of the darkness as if through a choking web, sticky and choking and utterly lost.

She feels... weird. Scared. Only that can't be right, can it? She's Vriska Serket, and Vriska Serket isn't afraid of anything.

Focus. Focus: she'd gone down, to think, there'd been a branch in the stairs and she'd gone down instead of up, wanted somewhere to curl up and just think for a minute before going to kill Jack and oh, god, what had she been _thinking?_ Jack's an unstoppable demon who destroyed twelve planets and then their moons, had killed their dreamselves and Nepeta and Feferi even while the girls were asleep, what chance did Vriska have? She's god-tier, sure, but Jack is a god _killer_ , an ascended out-of-control manifestation of the same game that gifted her with her own powers and it all seems so overwhelmingly futile now that she just wants to curl up and shake forever.

"What the fuck did you just do to us?" a voice says, and it takes her a long, electric moment to identify it as Tavros's.

"I... I don't know," she says.

"Everything hurts," he says, and he sounds so _angry_.

"Me too," she says, and her voice isn't right, isn't right at all, it's coming out all poisoned up with fear.

Tavros had caught her and she was going to kiss him-- she was going to _kill_ him-- and he had had his lance and she'd been scared, no, she'd been furious, she's scared right now thinking about it and she can't remember what it felt like not to be scared and that just makes her more afraid. He had come at her and she'd ripped the stupid lance out of his hands and on the backswing it had caught one of the machines lining the walls of this little room and everything had hurt.

She hurts so much.

Tavros levers himself upright, growling irritably.

"I was going to kill you," he says, and looksdownat her. "I was going to kill you because you've ruined everything and you _slapped_ me _."_

She's on her own feet in an instant, her wings thrumming into light and motion. She needs to get away.

Tavros grabs one, and she screams, high and sharp, before she can stop herself. It doesn't exactly hurt but it pulls at her, it feels wrong. "What the fuck, Pupa?" she asks, and her voice is shredded all to fearful tatters.

"Your wings are orange now," he says, and he laughs. Not letting go of her, he bites down on the back of his hand, drags a short little line of blood through the gray skin and she chokes on her own breath because the blood is blue.

"You switched our blood, Vriska," Tavros says, and stares at his hand almost admiringly. The smile on his face is utterly unrecognizable, and when she looks up there is nothing in her head but burning terror. He has so many teeth when he grins at her, and her own color is staining his lips, that's _her_ color, it's _hers_.

This isn't right. This isn't _right_ but she can't think of any way to stop the fear, to turn this situation to her advantage. It holds her down and makes her feel small. She's never really noticed that Tavros is bigger than her: not by much, maybe only a handsbreadth, but he is. His arms are long and wiry from a sweep of carrying the rest of him, his shoulders starting to broaden out for his first adolescent molt, and when he sets his head forward those giant horns go on _forever_ , the points hooked lethally forward, he doesn't look so much like a reedy little joke anymore.

"Where's your luck now, Marquise?" he asks, stepping forward, tugging the corner of her wing over her shoulder. She vanishes them, unthinkingly, and then she's just normal again, in her usual overshirt with the one badass torn off sleeve that doesn't feel so badass any more at all. It just feels dumb and sloppy, and now she's even more exposed.

Tavros just has really, really big fangs, and he won't stop having them right _at_ her. She never cared about his dumb fangs before, or his giant stupid deadly horns that would take her head off with one irritable swing, or how he was just barely tall enough to loom over her if he ever wanted to loom, which he wants to, now. And he is.

She steps back.

He steps forward. He's still taller. She really wants that to stop bugging her.

"Karkat," she squeaks. Coughs. Clears her throat. "Let's, let's get Karkat, okay? He, I think he can, fix, uh--" she coughs again, to cover her confusion, this shameful mental paralysis, and looks away. "This?"

" _This?_ " Tavros asks, and takes another step forward. "I don't know, Vriska, I don't think there's anything wrong with _me_." 

She takes another step back, wary, and he laughs and _stomps_ his foot at her and she finds herself pressing up hard against the wall, her vascular pump thundering through her so hard she thinks she's going to be _sick_. She wants nothing more than to _run_ , to get _away_ , but she's trapped and there's nothing but corners and weird awful machines in the dark. She's almost more scared of the machines than Tavros, because one of them made her like _this_ and she doesn't know which one. What if she ends up worse?

He's touching her. His hand is so cold against her cheek.

"Let me go," she whispers.

"No," he says. And he laughs again, bright and triumphant. "No, I won't!"

"Please?"

"No," he says again, and, grinning, he kisses her, all teeth and cool tongue and his hands are on her shoulders and her back is against the wall and she can't do anything but shake.

"Not so fun like _this_ , huh, Vriska?" he asks, nothing like the way he usually asks thing but like he already knows the answer and just wants to hear how she can't say anything back.

"Let me go," she says again. "Please, I'll, do anything you want, I will, I really will, Pupa--"

" _Tavros!"_ he roars at her, right in her face, so loud.

"T-Tavros," she repeats, her mouth feeling stupid and clumsy. "Tavros, Nitram, Tavros, that's your name, Tavros. Anything!"

"Anything," he says, almost gloats, and his hand drags down her breasts, her stomach, it cups between her legs and she squirms and bites back a little cry. It's a bright and shocking counterpoint to the pain and the fear, it just feels cleanly and entirely _good_.

"N-not that," she stammers, breathlessly. "I mean, I mean, unless, you want to, do you want--"

"I don't even have anything to pail you with," he hisses, horribly quiet, his breath so cold against her cheek and his hand presses up and she cries again, her hips twitching helplessly against him for more. "Our friends cut me in half, Vriska. _They cut me in fucking half_ _to fix what you did to me!_ "

"Don't hurt me," she gasps. "I'm sorry, I really am so, so sorry, just please don't hurt me."

When she dares to crack an eye open he's just looking at her, his soft eyes sharp and alien with a terribly familiar hunger, a manic, joyous anger, his cheeks flushed blue with excitement. He's still moving his hand against her, rocking his strong fingers back and forth and watching her squirm and gasp as pleasure laces up through all the terror like they're two different colors of poison.

"Is this what it feels like?" he demands, and his hand is still so _there_. "Is this what you always feel? I could make you hurt, Vriska. I could hold you down and deconstruct you, I could take you apart piece by piece, I could punch you _magnificently_ full of holes and I would love it, _oh_ I would love it. Fight me, Vriska. Give me an _excuse_."

She whimpers, utterly overwhelmed, and he kisses her again, too hard, too rough, too many teeth. It hurts and feels so good and she wants more and she wants to get away and he's doing things with his thumb that she's only ever felt in her recuperacoon at night when she touched herself with her own hands and pretended like it was him and she can't _stand_ it. He touches her this certain way, _pressing_ at her and kissing her again this final time and she climaxes, breathlessly, unexpectedly, and it's the most horrible thing that's ever happened to her.

She leans her head back against the wall, shaking like some dying animal, and her head is just full of a million different shades of pain.

"You're crying," he says wonderingly, kisses her cheek. "I-- Vriska, you're crying, that's not-- stop it, okay, stop it!"

She can't stop. It just keeps coming out, all the anguish knotted up inside her, all her terror and her loathing and sadness just spilling down her cheeks and burning her up into nothing.

" _FUCK!_ " Tavros shouts, shatteringly loud, and hits the wall beside her head. "Fucking--! How _dare_ you cry, how _dare_ you do this now, _how fucking dare you_ \-- get out!"

"What? Tav--"

"GET OUT!" he screams, "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU I SWEAR TO GOD SO GET _OUT!_ " and she screams too, and ducks under his arms. He doesn't move, his arms still braced against the wall, his back taut with fury when she dares to look back.

"I'm going to _kill_ you," he says, his head against the wall, and it almost sounds like he's crying too.

She runs. She runs and runs and doesn't stop until she's all the way on the roof, and there is nothing but emptiness all around her, the vast gray stretch of the roof and the even vaster black vault of the ruined heavens, and somewhere out there is Jack. He's coming to kill her, too.

She can't remember how to fly, or how to stop crying these mud-colored tears, or what it feels like to not be so utterly, tremblingly, ruinously afraid.

She sinks down to her hands and knees on the cold metal roof and tries, and tries, and tries.


End file.
